There's just so much right here at my desk to keep me busy. I could easily stay here in my chair for months without running out of things to do. In fact the longer I sit here the more I find to do; damn you Internet! I hardly have to go anywhere even to do research anymore. I can locate a thousand sources in about thirty minutes without moving.
But I should get up. My body is going to hound me until I walk around at least a little. Mostly it's my head that is telling me I am a lazy bastard if I don't put on clothes and go outside even though that would be playing, not working.
I don't know. Whatever it is, I'll find a way to feel guilty about it.
I shaved and showered the day before yesterday. This is worth celebrating. Yes it is. By going out and sweating. Well, what else can one do? Besides stay inside and read, play guitar, write songs, draw, find out about whatever strikes one's curiosity, etc.?
I mean, there isn't even any reason to go book shopping much anymore unless.. I should go to City Lights and buy some obscure poetery. I need to start treating the literary market like I would like to be treated. I don't know if it works that way, but it can't hurt, can it?
It's even uphill. Starting from BART, anyway. If I tried to walk the whole way I think they might close before I got there. I should check their hours even so. It is after 3pm. After 3pm on a Sunday afternoon! I will try not to think about that too hard.
Morning.
